


Out Of This World

by WolfAndHound_Archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Post-Sirius in Azkaban
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 15:43:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5933794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfAndHound_Archivist/pseuds/WolfAndHound_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A final betrayal sends Remus over the edge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out Of This World

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Lassenia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Wolf and Hound](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Wolf_and_Hound), which was created to make stories posted to the Sirius_Black_and_Remus_Lupin Yahoo! mailing list easier to find. However, even though I still love the fandom, I am no longer active in it and do not have the time to maintain it. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2015. I posted an announcement with Open Doors, but we may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Wolf and Hound collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wolfandhound/profile).

_We are home now_

out of our heads

__

out of our minds

__

out of this world

__

out of our time

__

In the end, it was easier than I thought it would be. I spent more than thirty years keeping the wolf in control, using potions and chains to keep others safe from myself. But in the end, it felt good to let go.

Peter has a silver arm. He should have come for me. That's what we were all expecting. It was the logical thing. Werewolves are hurt, and killed, by silver. Then he pointed his wand at Harry and muttered the Killing Curse, and you stepped in front of it.

You sacrificed yourself for Harry. You're a hero, Sirius. You always said you'd be famous. You're not the notorious Sirius Black, Killer of Thirteen Muggles With a Single Curse. Not anymore. Now, you're Sirius Black, The One Who Saved The Boy Who Lived.

But I'm alone again. Well, not really alone. The wolf is here. Has been since Peter said those words and ended what little happiness I'd found since that Halloween night fourteen years ago.

You were gone by the time I fought my way to your side. Harry had you huddled in his lap, tears streaming down his face, and I wrapped my arms around you and Harry, but I couldn't let myself mourn, not yet. The battle still raged around us, and the Hogwarts forces were slowly winning. Peter scurried back to his master's side like a good little rat, but I caught his eye across the field.

Any lingering feelings of friendship I might have felt towards Peter deep in my heart, and believe me when I say that there were few, if any, left, were gone the second he smirked in my direction. I growled, low in the back of my throat, Harry tensing in my embrace. Peter and his master retreated, Death Eaters abandoning the fight to follow their lord, but I make a vow at Peter's back.

I knew his scent. The wolf knew his scent. The rat had never been able to hide from the wolf. Never. I would find him, and I would finish what we started back in the Shrieking Shack.

I remained at Hogwarts for a week after the battle. I made sure you were buried by James and Lily, and I made sure Harry received everything you and I ever owned. You no longer needed it, and I wasn't planning on returning.

Then I began hunting.

Contacts I'd made during my time wandering the world after you were arrested made it easy for me to get both information and money. It's amazing what a vampire will do and say when confronted with an angry werewolf.

I finally found the little rat in small field not far from the outer reaches of London. He was curled up in a tiny, furry ball, shivering, one beady little eye watching me. I stalked, and there is no other word for what I was doing, around him, boots treading through the dry grass. I could feel the sun beating down on my back, but inside rolled through my mind like the night of the full moon.

The full moon was three weeks, two days, nine hours, and seventeen minutes away, but I could feel the wolf in my brain, feel the rage burning in my blood. This man, rat, former friend, had killed my family, my pack, and my mate, and for that last transgression, and that alone, Peter deserved death.

I stopped walking, finally crouching next to the small rat, studying the form with a cocked head. The wolf was there, behind my eyes, calm, waiting, calculating. I lashed out suddenly, hand slamming into the earth, effectively capturing Peter in my grasp. With my free hand, I reached down and grabbed his tail, lifting him up. I twirled his whiskers with my finger, smirking slightly.

"Oh, Petey, how exactly did we get to this point?" I wasn't expecting an answer. For that he would have to be in his natural form, and then he would have the chance of getting his grubby hands on a wand, and I couldn't risk him ruining my plan like that. "I'll tell you why. You were weak, and none of us had the nerve to tell you that. You were our friend, and for that, we helped you in class and out of class. I'm not even sure why you were even in Gryffindor, but then you lacked the brains for Ravenclaw, the cunning for Slytherin, and, obviously, the loyalty for Hufflepuff."

My words were harsh, I knew that as I said them, but, really, when one has nothing left to lose anymore, being honest always seems to be the best course of action. Peter squeaked in response, struggling against my hand, his tiny claws flailing out, managing to catch on the flesh of my hand, drawing three tiny lines of blood. I laughed bitterly, grasping the rat around the middle and dropping his tail. He struggled harder then, trying to find a way to escape.

"No escape. Not this time. No innocents to kill. No sewer to disappear down," I muttered, touching my nose to his. "No headstrong Gryffindor to frame for murder. Just me, Petey. You and me." And the wolf, of course, but there was no reason to bring that up. I'm sure Peter could see the beast in my eyes. I was not fighting the wolf anymore; there was no reason. I could almost feel the fur sliding around me, bones twisting, and I bit back a howl as my own hands shifted into claws.

The part of my mind still capable of rational and logical thought brought forth a small paragraph about werewolves, about living in harmony with the beast. All I had to do was accept the beast and I could control it, call it forth at will. It had been a novel idea at the time, but too dangerous to try. I may have longed to live without the moon's control, but I would not risk lives for it. Apparently, that book had been right.

After all, the wolf and I had never been this much in harmony before.

Back to the rat, though, who was still struggling, but it was no longer a struggle to escape, but more of the struggle of prey. Prey that knew it wouldn't be seeing the moon rise that day. Absently, one hand reached up, smoothing his fur, but that only caused him to struggle harder.

"I loved him, Petey, but then you knew that. Granted you were the last to know, but you still knew, and you still felt the fucking need to destroy him," I whispered, and the wolf rolled in my mind, wanting violence, urging my to rend, to tear, to bite, to kill. It would have been easy. The rat form was tiny, small and weak. I could have ripped him in two without even breaking a sweat.

I didn't though. In the end, I merely reached up, wrapping one clawed hand around his neck and twisted, feeling the bones crack under my hand. His death throes were brief, a kick of his hind legs and nothing more. I let the rat fall back to the ground, and in a flash of blue light it reformed into the balding man I remembered from three years ago. He wasn't breathing. I'd done my job. Now all I had to do was wait.

It didn't take long before I felt the tip of a wand behind my ear. I remained still, not in the least surprised. After all, where the rat was, his master wasn't far behind.

"Tell me, Voldemort, did he volunteer to be the sacrificial lamb or was that your idea?" I asked, my voice more conversational that it probably should have been. I had to bite back a hysterical giggle, because really, I just sounded bored.

"Neither actually. It merely worked out that all I had to do to bait my trap was let Wormtail be himself," Voldemort replied, his wand still pressing into the soft flesh behind my ear. I nodded slightly at his words.

"You're a fool." I could sense him start behind me at this. Obviously, he wasn't expecting name-calling. He recovered with a laugh though.

"Werewolves mate for life. Interesting tidbit I picked up in Albania, but then, you probably already knew that fact, yes?" I nodded slightly. "It must hurt to lose someone you were that close to."

"More than you could ever know," I allowed. I didn't go further into what it felt like -- namely like a part of my body was missing without you, Sirius. I felt him sigh, and I realized that apparently I wasn't giving him the reaction he so desperately wanted. I wasn't begging or pleading. I was merely accepting. Then a faint sound could be heard behind us and a flood of power washed over my skin. Voldemort sensed it too, and his wand pressed harder into my flesh. He said something, but it was half in muttered Albanian and half in Parseltongue, and I really didn't feel like attempting to translate.

"You will die for this," he finally muttered. I merely shrugged, rising to my feet and turning to face the monstrosity behind me. I stared at Voldemort and raised my eyebrows, glancing over his shoulder at the two forms that had apparated into the field. Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore.

"Nothing to live for," I replied, smiling slightly, and I think that smile unnerved him because his wand snapped up and pointed directly between my eyes. "Not anymore." He must have realized the plan by that point. Snape and Dumbledore were there to kill him, that much was obvious. I was merely bait, much like Peter. I suppose on some level I should have been offended, I should have spoken out about the use of one of our own has bait.

But aside from the quest for vengeance, I had another reason for being there -- suicide by means of the Dark Lord. You see, Sirius, werewolves can't commit suicide. We can't take our own lives. It's impossible, the survival instincts are too strong. So, I volunteered for this. I was going after Peter anyway.

I could see it in Voldemort's eyes as the plan clicked in his mind, and I grinned for the first time in a month as he opened his mouth, beginning the Killing Curse almost exactly as Severus and Dumbledore both muttered the same curse, their wands pointed at his back.

As I felt the power flow over me, taking my breath and my heartbeat, I knew the war was over. No one, not even Merlin himself, could have survived the combination of two Killing Curses at once, but even that thought was fleeting as life slipped further away and I crumpled to the ground.

I had peace finally. No more moon. No more wolf, and I would be back with my friends, my pack, and most importantly -- my mate. I would be back where I belonged.

++++++++++++++ END


End file.
